


Trust

by Makoberry



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Established Rickyl, M/M, and he gets him because daryl gets everyone, daryl is basically a dad to carl now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 15:42:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30141822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makoberry/pseuds/Makoberry
Summary: Carl is doing things Rick doesn’t approve of, Daryl knows why.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes
Kudos: 14





	Trust

“I saw Carl, the other day.” Rick was saying, and Daryl sat up so the soothing drawl of his words wouldn’t put him to sleep, if it was about Carl, he had to pay attention. “He had one of the hogs—” Rick paused, he nodded out at the field like he was convincing himself to say it out loud. “—one of the babies, an’ he was hurtin’ it.”

Daryl leaned towards him, bumping his shoulder against Rick’s arm. Carl was just a little kid, he probably didn’t mean to or—

“It wasn’t any accident, Daryl, he was doin’ it deliberately.” Rick sighed. “Hershel says a child’s relationship with animals should only be friendship, that it means something when a kid hurts an animal.”

Daryl tried not to show how he felt about Rick seeking Hershel’s help first, but he’d already leaned away again, not thinking before he moved.

Rick’s hand found his almost immediately, pulling him back. “Hershel was walking through the farm with me, so we saw it at the same time.” He reassured Daryl without really reassuring him.

When Daryl was a boy, he hurt small animals. 

His uncle had a farm, and he only got to go until his momma died, because she liked to visit her uncle and could tolerate bringing him along. Merle never came because he was a fire hazard, and his daddy never let them both have fun in the same day.

His momma and uncle would sit on the porch with a jug of iced sweat tea between ‘em, and Daryl would run out to the small barn. His uncle wasn’t mean, he’d shown Daryl how to let himself in when he found out the kid liked the animals.

So Daryl would sit, pull the baby goat onto his lap, and he’d squeeze its face to make it squirm. It wasn’t that he liked the sounds coming out of the small animal, but when the male goats —who were chained away in a separate enclosure— butted their heads against the fence and made angry noises at him, Daryl liked that they cared about their kids. So he kept doing it. Every time he visited the farm and no one else was around, until the day his momma died, and he never went back there. 

“They’s always too soft on y’all.” His daddy slurred over a beer when he asked why his uncle never came ‘round anymore. “Go get me a cold one.”

Daryl didn’t mention the beer already in the mans hand.

He didn’t know what made him do it, not back then. Or maybe he did. He’d buried it for a long time, forgotten all about it until he learned Carl was doin’ the same thing.

“Carl’ll come ‘round.” Daryl said finally, pulling Rick’s arm under his poncho and settling more closely to him. Spring was coming, and the evenings were getting warmer, but Carol always looked relieved when he wore something warm on watch. “I’ll talk to ‘im.”

“What’re you gon’ say?”

“Ain’t tellin’.” Daryl smirked at the look Rick gave him, “What? You don’ need ta know everythin’ bout the kid.”

Rick smiled for the first time that day, fondly, the crease in his brow finally disappearing. 

“I trust you.” He said, and no matter how many times he said it, those three words always made Daryl’s heart beat faster than any “I love you”s ever could.


End file.
